


Spider-Man 1648

by Scapolite



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-07-11 02:39:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15962927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scapolite/pseuds/Scapolite
Summary: To the south lies a town, where the Shogun's hand falters, and the air is sweet with sunflowers. Rumors whisper of a man who sheds blood in the name of God. To the north, a daimyo orders a samurai and his followers to quash any trace of Christian rebellion. Between an iron curse and a spider's blessing, ideals must be tempered. Westward, a wind of change already begins to stir.





	1. Kumo-no-Otoko

_"But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you." - Matthew, 6:3-4_

**#1:Kumo-no-Otoko**

The sun arose above the forest, sunlight beaming through its thick rows of trees. The chirping of birds and buzz of insects provided ambience while animals lapped at water, others hunting or desperate not to become the hunted.

One squirrel ran up his tree, somewhat surprised to find himself running into a viscous layer of spider webbing, spread along the branches like a makeshift hammock. If the squirrel hadn't ran away, it would have also been surprised to find a man comfortably sleeping above.

Web hammock aside, he would have stood out from an ordinary traveler. The young man's face was shielded from the sun with a black mask excepting the white cloth around his eyes. His neck was wrapped snugly in a thick white scarf, a black top half of a yukata with its sleeves and the bottom half torn off, open just enough to see a large black spider mark across his chest. If one could see the yukata's back, they would have noticed its twin symbol in white. The yukata was kept in place by a white cloth belt.

Below these, he wore kobakama pants that reached his knees, while his shins were wrapped in bandages, as were his muscular forearms.

Lastly, white tabi socks covered his feet.

"Oh no, Jun, this is the wrong hot spring...", he mumbled through sleep. "I didn't say leave..."

Soon, an unfortunate deer crashed into the tree.

"Whoah!" the spinning hammock knocked the man right off. Despite his desperate attempts to regain balance, he landed firmly on his behind.

"Ow..." he brushed off the leaves from his clothes. " Who could have..."

He searched around for the disturbance, but the deer was long gone, off to ruin other animals' sleep no doubt.

"And I was having such a lovely dream too," he sighed.

"Gah..." He held up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun shining brightly through the trees, the heat warming his mask for than he'd have liked.

"It's morning already?" he jumped on his feet. "Jeez, Pedro, you overslept again!"

Pedro's head still spun from a rude awakening, his disorganized thoughts taking a while to remember where he was supposed to be.

"Oh yeah. The art gallery. The daimyo is going to visit there today!"

He could imagine exactly what the daimyo would say if he found out Pedro was late.

"This isn't what I expect of you, Takuya," Pedro said in a mocking tone. "When I am late, it is the will of the spirits, when you're late, it's because you're lazy!"

He leapt to the tree in front of him, pressing his hands and feet against its bark, fingers and toes instinctively shaping themselves to cling to the branches. He leapt quickly from tree to tree, never once missing his perch or scraping his skin.

Birds flew in surprise as he passed, small animals darting away from the unfamiliar-smelling creature that traversed the forest with ease.

The fresh air and warm sunlight felt wonderful, it was a beautiful morning, albeit later than Pedro would have wanted.

As the forest began to recede, Pedro could see the outskirts of the town.

No place like Himawari.

It was a humble town, small structures of wood and stone built from a forest clearing, their angular roofs always a pleasure for Pedro to climb; the view from the streets below neither too high, nor too low. Decorations lightly adorned the front of each home, mainly lanterns and rice paper scrolls hanging from the doors. Rows of potted sunflowers marked out the larger streets. Modest, but festive enough for the residents to afford.

Pedro knew the town was preparing for something, but hadn't yet received details. It must have been something important if the townspeople had been convinced to scrape together for decorations.

Pedro hoped that whatever it was, it would pass soon. Last thing he wanted was noise.

He passed through the Fujio Restaurant, his stomach instantly grumbling at the smell of dumplings.

From the outside, he could see the young Fujio Kagami walking in her cute yellow kimono, tied with an orange sash that complimented her hair bun. She served dumplings with a kind smile to every customer, resident and visitor alike.

Outside the restaurant, her twin brother Fujio Tatsuji was on the porch, dressed as ever in leather armor a couple sizes too big for him. He stood in a clumsy stance, awkwardly brandishing his father's bokuto, wildly flailing at a straw dummy.

Pedro wondered what Gengoro would have thought seeing his son in such a state. He hadn't had long to muse over the inevitable tongue lashing before Pedro's empty stomach voiced its opinion, as it so often did.

"Not now, tummy..." he patted his abdominal's. "I promise, after the daimyo, okay?"

His stomach tolerated the excuse for the time being, long enough for Pedro to reluctantly turn away from the promise of food; he'd be back later.

Next he passed through the doctor's residence. The ever-present line of patients arguing with each other on who should be the first. Each time Doctor Kata came out in her black kimono to accept the new patient, the arguments would quiet at the sight of her warm, practiced smile, only to return as she'd escort the next patient. Medicine was hard to come by in a town so remote, Pedro could understand their frustration, to a point.

"How does she have the patience for it?" Pedro wondered to himself. "With a husband like that, anyone would be a little..."

Speak of the devil, a few guards in their blue yukata passed by. Their captain, a man slightly shorter than the rest of them, stumbling as he went. Pedro could smell sake from all the way up the roof.

"Jeez, already?" Pedro sighed. "The morning just started, Captain Sosuke..."

Just to get away from the smell of alcohol, he jumped away towards the Himawari castle, past the small river, separating the two halves of the town.

The castle, also called Himawari, towered above every other building in the town like a mountain of finest white. Standing six stories tall, it dominated the landscape with its aging columns and stained glass.

It would have intimidated Pedro had it belonged to anyone other than the short, angry man who was its daimyo.

Pedro stopped nearby at the merchant quarter when he heard a familiar voice. It came behind from one of the stands.

"Pearls, pearls, magnificent pearls!" a cheerful old man in a gray yukata outshouted every other merchant. "You won't find pearls this big even in Edo itself! Only this here merchant, Sarutobi Rai who got em!"

It did little to convince the residents and travelers, who passed him by while covering their ears. Except one man in a red kimono, who stopped with an interested look on his face.

Pedro had never seen him before, but the katana and wakizashi tied to his belt told Pedro exactly what the man was.

A samurai.

Attentively, Pedro watched from the nearby roof. Maybe nothing would happen. Maybe he was there to actually buy Rai's pearls. But every instinct told him to expect nothing, but trouble.

"Give me the biggest one you got," the samurai said.

"Ah, nothing less for a fine samurai such as you," Sarutobi took the biggest pearl from the stand. "Here you go, that'll cost ya about..."

"This should cover it," the samurai gave him a small bag. When Rai opened it, he saw a stack of coins on the surface, but underneath...

"A rock?!" he screamed. "Is this some kind of a sick joke, you..."

But the samurai had already left the quarter. Pedro merely sighed, unsurprised. He hadn't seen anything too low for a samurai to try. If there were any half as honorable as their code implied, he had yet to meet one.

Small men with their pointy toys, thinking they earned divinity. Sword-waving thugs without a care in the world, most of which hadn't even seen a real war.

Pedro made his decision. The samurai needed to get knocked down a peg.

So Pedro followed in the direction the samurai went, until he saw him near the river.

The samurai stood on the river bridge, showing the pearl to Doctor Kata, who was walking by with a bag of medical supplies.

"Hey, look what I got!" he smiled too wide for his rotting teeth. "I bet a fine lady like you wanna go with a rich guy like me, huh?"

"I... uh," Kata stopped, feigning a smile. "I'm sorry, I am already married, sir..."

Kata turned away, hastening her pace.

"Hey!" he followed her. "Get over here! What, is your husband not good enough for you, huh? Let me brighten up that pretty face. I'll..."

The samurai grabbed her by the shoulder. She tried to struggle out from his hold, but his grip was strong.

"No!" she screamed. "Please, let go of me!"

Her screams carried to the onlookers walking by. Some chose to walk the other way, hoping to have nothing to do with it. Some gawked in morbid curiosity, knowing exactly the kind of acts that were about to happen.

Those who might have helped hesitated, seeing the swords. If any of them opposed him alone, he would have cut them down. Who would dare to punish a samurai?

The sword, even in its sheath, was feared by all.

Pedro alone, without question or hesitation, stepped forward on the bridge. From his belt, he took out a set of bolas tied together with webbing, and with a practiced toss from his shoulder, sent the projectiles flying.

"Wh.. whaaaaaa!" the bolas swung around the samurai's legs, unbalancing his stance and falling to the ground, the force of the samurai's grip also taking the doctor with him.

Before he could react, Kata immediately found her footing and ran from her assailant without a second glance.

"What's the big idea?!" the samurai got to his knees, seeing Pedro stand above him. "You, kabuki actor! Help me get up this instant!"

Pedro crossed his arms, smiling in satisfaction from behind the mask. The once-fearful samurai now squirmed pathetically.

"I'm not interested."

"What?!" the samurai's face twisted in disgust. "Do you know who you're talking to?! I'm the samurai of..."

Pedro kicked the samurai in the back, sending him sprawling back to the ground. He relieved both swords out from their sheaths. A gasp was heard from one of the onlookers.

Swords in hand, Pedro calmly walked to the river's edge.

"What are you doing?!" the samurai screamed behind him. "Do you know how expensive those are?! Lower class peasants like you have no right to touch them!"

"Said the bear without his claws," Pedro chuckled, letting the swords drop into the water with a splash. The samurai could only watch, helpless as his blades were carried away by the current.

The view was heavenly to Pedro, who would love nothing more than to see a thousand blades chase the currents like newborn salmon with the lovely Jun by his side.

"You filthy bastard!" the samurai screamed, still wriggling in the bolas' knot. "I'll kill..."

"Keep it quiet, will you?" Pedro threw a paper ball in his face. Upon impact, the ball released a small puff of smoke and gooey webbing around the samurai's mouth.

"Mmmmf!" the samurai tried to tear it away, but the thick material would not budge. Pedro watched his struggle, trying not to laugh.

"Alright, alright," Pedro took out his nunchaku, connected with strands of webbing. "Thank you for attending our performance, but the show is over. Please return to your homes, and let them know I sent you." Pedro bowed his head slightly to the spectators.

It took the smallest of thuds to the head for Pedro's nunchaku to knock the samurai out cold.

"Wait, that's Kumo-no-Otoko!" a person in the crowd pointed at him.

Kumo-no-Otoko. The Man of spiders. Not a perfect name in his opinion, but it fit.

"Is it really him? I thought he'd be taller."

Pedro's eyebrow twitched, comments such as those were uncalled for.

"Wasn't he an actual giant spider? Or at least a man with six arms?" an old lady mumbled.

"Who does he think he is, assaulting that samurai and all!" a young man screamed.

"I saw him kill a man once..." a girl timidly said.

They talked like snakes swirling in a jar. They weighed down his thoughts, heavy as stone, souring his mood in an instant.

He resolved to ignore the rest, dismissing the gossip until one man's words sent a chill of alarm down Pedro's neck.

"Some say he is a... Kirishitan."

The entire crowd went silent at that. Pedro clenched his fists.

A Kirishitan.

The terror in their eyes was transparent, greater than the samurai had made them. There at least, many were apathetic.

A Kirishitan.

Some of them even stood back, grasping for friendly hands. Pedro was prepared to hear their venom all over again.

"No wonder he's a criminal..." one person whispered. "They praise their great kami above all else. They worship a tortured man and eat his flesh."

"They claim their Kiritsu is even greater than the Shogun..." another whispered. "Or even the Mikado."

"Not just claim!" a third person said. "They rebelled in Shimabara..."

"One of those traitors is in our town? Spirits help us..."

Pedro watched them spewing their poison, like a basket of snakes. Such a crowd they were, that a Kirishitan was worse than a samurai would-be-assaulter next to him? If only they understood, if only they knew the truth...

He knew nothing would change it, yet he wanted to say something anyway. As soon as he opened his mouth...

"Help!" a person in the crowd shouted at the approaching squad of guards. "It's Kumo-no-Otoko!"

The guards readied their weapons immediately, cautiously pointing them at Pedro.

"Kumo-no-Otoko!" one guard stepped forward. "You are under arrest for repeated assault, vandalism of government property, slander of authority, and indecent exposure!"

"I told you the last one was an accident!" Pedro jumped to a nearby building, not before taking Rai's pearl off the unconscious samurai. By the time the guards gave chase, he was already scurrying across the rooftops.

He tried to shake off the crowd's words. They weren't the first, and wouldn't be the last. After all, they were nothing but that. Words.

Words could never tarnish his faith. He needed to remember that.

He had just reached the art gallery, a small building near the castle. To his surprise, no angry little men were waiting at his door.

"I'm not late? Great!"

He carefully crawled on its roof, then hid in the back. There, he opened a tiny sliding door, inside of which a green yukata, a blue belt, and a set of geta sandals were waiting for him. He took off his mask, put it in one of the many pouches he had, and put on the clothes.

To the town he was no longer Kumo-no-Otoko, no longer Pedro, but Yamashiro Takuya, a shy young man with short hair and an easy smile.

"Now, let's go," he walked to the gallery's front door.

He went inside to take a quick look before the daimyo arrived. Not that there was much to clean, the gallery was too grand a word for the simple hall lined with paintings hanging from above.

Paintings of nature, buildings, people, all sorts of artwork signed either "Yamashiro Takuya" or "Yamashiro Itsuki".

By far the largest and most detailed of these was "Warrior in White", showing the back of a man in white armor against a pitch black background. Although the armor had the distinct features of a samurai, Pedro would refer to his likeness as such.

Not him. Not in a thousand years.

A sound of loud footsteps stole Pedro out from his trance. It could only mean that the daimyo had arrived.

Most daimyos traveled in a palanquin, never soiling their geta with the ground beneath them. But Jinno Jinsei always arrived on foot, wearing a modest white kimono sparsely decorated with a gray flower with the common man's bun. The look may have been understated, perhaps even humble, if he hadn't insisted in complementing his appearance with a small moustache no wider than his nose.

Though he could never understand why, try as he might, Pedro always found the moustache especially irksome.

"Hello there, Takuya!" his raspy voice sounded uncomfortably close in Pedro's ears as Jinsei entered the gallery. "I see you're late, as always!"

"Me, late?" Pedro tried to bow. "Perish the thought, my Lord, I was always here."

"Liar!" Jinsei pointed at him. "You were so late, you didn't even notice that I was also late! Where's that worry in your eyes? You should have been sitting in here for hours wondering why I was late! What if your daimyo was eaten by a pack of wild bears?!"

"I don't think any bear is mad enough to eat you, my Lord," Pedro said with utmost sincerity.

"Right answer my boy," Jinsei snatched up one of the paintings, inspecting it curiously. "I gotta prepare for a big welcoming party for someone important..."

Pedro had a hard time believing Jinsei could consider someone else important.

"Supposed to be a visitor appointed by the Shogun himself!"

Pedro's eyes widened. He didn't quite process what he just heard.

"Shogun Tokugawa Iemitsu?" Pedro asked, but soon his attention turned elsewhere.

"The very same, unless he already died in a bathtub or something," Jinsei browsed through the paintings. "I don't get news from Edo and I'm fine with that, as long as I'm not the one dealing with my wife anymore. Spirits bless alternative attendance... Takuya, are you listening?"

As it happened, Pedro was not, the moment he saw the daimyo's maidservant Minami Jun had entered the gallery.

All the world's worries fled Pedro's mind. Jun-sama, in her elegant red kimono with fiery golden patterns, her flowing black hair locked with a yellow hairpin, the sandals she wore revealing her softly-painted toes. The gentle dips below her neckline, hinting at the firm breasts beneath the fabric.

But none of that was the most important.

The most important part was her eyes.

Perfect green eyes, in which Pedro lost himself completely. The eyes had a spark like he had never seen in anyone else, let alone a person his own age like Jun. He badly wanted a chance to talk with her, longed to know what kind of person could have such eyes, what sort of keen mind they repre...

"Takuya!" Jinsei was shaking him now, scowling at his charge. "Get your mind out of wherever you lost it in that thick skull of yours and back to the most important thing in this room! Me!"

"I'm sorry," Pedro scratched the back of his head. "I must have... accidentally meditated?"

"Before you accidentally ascend to the higher plane of laziness, we need to present one of your paintings to the guest! So get your act together, you hear me?!"

"Yes, my Lord," Pedro gave a nod, trying not to stare at Jun again. "Have you... chosen a painting yet?"

"I'll pick one of these..." Jinsei took an impressive stack of paintings. "Let's see... filth, crap, garbage, crap, more crap... hmm."

Jinsei gave Jun a quizzical look. Jun nodded.

Pedro wasn't sure what passed between them, but he seemed to come to a conclusion.

"Hmm, yes. I'll take them all."

Pedro's legs nearly gave out from the surprise.

"All?" he could barely say a word. "Are you serious, my Lord?"

"Of course! I'm always serious, especially when I'm joking. Here!"

Jinsei threw a bag of coins in Pedro's general direction, the artist nearly failing to catch through numb fingers.

"The guest better like at least one of these..." Jinsei muttered. "The things I agree to..."

The daimyo and Jun left, leaving Pedro alone with the realization that he was holding a very solid, very real bag of coins.

His stomach was quick to come to the same conclusion.

"No, tummy, no," Pedro firmly said. "First we're taking the money home, got it?"

The stomach protested, but ultimately gave in. Triumphant over his victory against bodily functions, Pedro headed home.

His home wasn't too far from the art gallery, just a small house from across the street, no better or worse than the rest of them.

Not that it was anything special; a couple drafty rooms with straw beds, a few sacks around a creaking table, a small pile of stones for a fireplace and stove, and a roof stained and lightly warped from last week's rain.

Pedro expected to find his aunt inside, but both of the rooms were empty of people.

"She must be there again. Oh well, I got some time."

He reached for one of the sacks. From it, he took a piece of paper.

"Time to brace myself..." he gulped.

He pressed the middle and ring finger against his palm, carefully massaging a particular point on his right hand. Drops of gooey, liquid-like webbing fell from his wrist into the paper. Every time it felt like a particularly unhappy horse was stomping on his wrists.

"Uh...Aaah," once done, Pedro wrapped the paper in a ball with some gunpowder, placing the material in a pouch to harden.

"I still gotta make the bolas too," Pedro sighed as he took a string with two bits of wood from the bag, and went to a door the other end of the house.

The door led him outside to the river shore. There, Pedro found her beside a canvas. An old woman in a white kimono, her wrinkled face weary of the world. In spite of, or perhaps because of her worn features, her smile caught many off guard at first glance by its serenity. She was painting by the water, tracing gentle strokes with a brush in her left hand. At her bare feet sat a bowl of paint.

She picked up a second brush between the toes of her right foot, applying a new color to her palette.

Her right arm twitched for a moment before she swore under her breath, cursing herself for the reflex.

To the town she was known as Yamashiro Itsuki, but to Pedro she would always be Aunt Mei.

"This early and you're already painting?" he sat beside her. "I thought I was the painter in this family now."

"Come now, what else can I do?" she smiled at her nephew before returning to her work. "The river is only this lovely in the morning, as if God himself is blessing us with his kindness. I have to paint."

Pedro chuckled at the image of a lonely God, staring down at his river, wondering why He would make something not worth painting.

"Can't argue with that..." Pedro spotted her naginata, still lying behind the canvas.

He could tell it was her own from the small cracks in the shaft, the blade's edge chipped and dull from wear and neglect.

"You still carry that around, aunt Mei? I thought you would have hung it up by now."

"Even if this old hand could carry it again, that time has passed, I have no use for such a tool."

"Your skill with the knife is truly a blessing," said Pedro. "Hisako-chan certainly thinks so."

His aunt laughed. "But a knife still has its purpose without drawing blood. Remember that weapons, as with all things, are tools to use. But while a knife is a blade of many uses, naginata serve only one master."

The old woman sighed.

"In truth, I have been tempted to throw it away," Mei stopped painting. "But that would be like throwing away my memories. It's not right to forget what people have done. Even to those from Shimabara."

Pedro couldn't argue with that.

Murmuring a small prayer, he walked to a pit of stone near by. After kindling a fire with the handful of sticks he'd left, Pedro took a piece of string to wrap in his webbing. Holding it over the growing flame, he felt the strand gradually harden between his fingers. After tying the web between two pieces of wood on both ends, he prepared a pair of bolas.

"I wish there was an easier way to do this," Pedro sighed. It would have been more helpful if he'd been blessed with a way to shoot his webs, but so it was.

"Speaking of memories..." Mei said. "Did you remember what day it is today?"

"No," he honestly replied. "Is it someone's birthday? Please don't be Jinsei's..."

"Silly Pedro, today is the day of Kagami's baptism," Mei put down the brush. "The Sanctuary will have a new member at last."

Pedro cursed himself for an idiot.

"Oh, I totally forgot," he scratched his head with an awkward grin. "I'll go get her!"

"Pedro, before you do that..." aunt Mei lowered her head. "Did you fight today? I heard the commotion about a samurai..."

Pedro sighed. He could never lie to her. She would understand, always.

"Yes," Pedro said. "He stole Rai's pearl and harassed Martha. I had to step in, no one else did."

"I know you had to," Mei said, resigned. "But just this once you have to be careful. A guest from the Shogunate is coming. If they find out about us, about who we are..."

Pedro could see it, the Shogun's horde, raiding houses, putting innocent people to the question, leaving no stone unturned, no person left alive who were traitors in their eyes. To ensure the Kirishitan strain was dealt with, anything would be justified.

"We lived in peace for so many years," Mei said. "We cannot risk that now. Promise me, Pedro. At least until the guest is gone."

It was the easiest thing in the world to say. After all the things he did to protect their secrets, laying low would be an easy choice.

"I promise," he headed for the door. "Don't worry, aunt Mei."

"That's all I needed to hear," she returned to her canvas. "Go get Kagami now, I'll watch the gallery after I'm done."

Pedro went for Fujio's Restaurant, his stomach grumbling in anticipation the whole way there. When he reached it, Kagami was the first to greet him.

"Takuya-kun!" she ran into him. "Where have you been? Usually you show up here first."

"Trust me, I would if it were up to me, I would," Pedro took one of the empty seats in the corner. "But you know how our daimyo schedules gallery visits."

Kagami leaned in close to whisper.

"Are we still going... you know... to the hideout?"

"Yes," he said. "Just get me a ton of dumplings first, I am so hungry I could eat the whole castle."

"What are you two whispering about?" said a chubby, middle-aged man, suddenly appearing behind them with a tray of food.

With his near-bald hair, grease-stained kimono, and amiable grin, it was easy to forget her father once fought in the Battle of a Hundred Men.

"Nothing!" Kagami sprung away. "I'll... get the dumplings!"

Pedro and the other man watched her go faster than a fleeing bird, leaving Pedro alone with him... with her father. Pedro internally groaned, hoping just once to avoid entertaining the old man's delusions.

"Gengoro-san.." Pedro sighed. "It's not what it looks..."

"It's just Gengoro for you, my boy," he sat down next to Pedro. "And you don't have to lie to me, you know I'm supportive. It's better than going through a phase like her mother and all."

"I mean, she's my childhood friend and we're not..."

"You should just propose to her!" Gengoro patted Pedro on the shoulder. "You know I'll be proud to have a fine young man like you as her husband. And Tatsuji will get over it... someday."

Pedro barely avoided the urge to bury his face in the table.

"I'm very happy for you two," Gengoro pointed at Kagami, who was still preparing dumplings. "If you.. say, ever wanna get busy, just say the word and I'll give you a room."

"Wha..." Pedro jumped from his chair, hands shaking as if he'd been struck by lightning. "Gengoro! Jesu... I mean, the spirits!"

"What?" Gengoro shrugged. "You two always run off to somewhere anyway, might as well make it comfortable. Such matters are very awkward in a forest."

"Father, are you embarrassing Pedro again?" Kagami returned carrying a long stick, its length pierced with five dumplings hot from the oven.

"Me?" Gengoro got up from the chair. "Of course not, I'm just giving some advice on how to... catch fish! Don't mind me..."

He left to the kitchen as quickly as he appeared. Pedro felt a mountain of embarrassment lift from his shoulders.

At the sight of the dumplings, his eyes grew wide like that of an excited puppy, his stomach hardly able to restrain itself.

"Down boy," Kagami laughed, holding back the food as Pedro reached for a dumpling. Pedro tried not to whine.

"Alright, alright, hehe," she relented, tossing her friend the stick which he immediately snatched.

"Your father's a strange one, huh?" Pedro said through a mouthful as he gorged on the dumplings, savoring the warm juicy meat.

"Tell me about it..." she rolled her eyes. "If he wanted grand kids this badly, he'd get Tatsuji a girl."

"I'm pretty certain Tatsuji is only interested in his bokuto," somehow, Pedro already finished his food.

"Hey, what's the big idea?!" an old man shouted from the back. "I've been waiting here for 2 hours and he gets his food first?!"

"I'm sorry, sir! Right away!" she briefly turned to Pedro. "Let's go after I'm done."

Having already finished his late breakfast, Pedro went outside to let Kagami work and have some peace from the customers.

A peace that was instantly disturbed as a bokuto swung inches away from his face.

"Ha!" Tatsuji stood to his right. "Made you blink, Takuya!"

"Yes," Pedro tried his best not to sound sarcastic. "You win, Tatsuji."

"That's right!" Tatsuji swung his bokuto wildly. "I'm totally almost as good as Dad!"

One swing almost hit Pedro's head. Fortunately, the swing only cut a strand of hair in part from Tatsugi's clumsiness and standing a head taller than Pedro, in spite of their age gap. He was grateful for his smaller stature, a first for him.

"Does Gengoro-san know you're wearing his armor again?" Pedro hand-combed his hair back in place. "It's still too wide for you, you know."

"No, he doesn't know," Tatsuji sheathed the bokuto. "He'd never understand anyway. He keeps his katana and wakizashi locked in a chest, like he's ashamed of them or something!"

"Maybe he is?" Pedro shrugged. "Maybe he renounced the samurai way for good reason, Tatsugi?"

"No way!" Tatsuji bristled. "The samurai are awesome! They dedicate their lives to the art of the sword, something only they can grasp! Their duels are the most exciting thing anyone can live for!"

"Someday I'll be as strong and famous as Musushi!" Tatsuji pointed into the sky.

Pedro resisted the urge to wring the boy's neck. Or worse, tell his father.

"It's Musashi..." Pedro muttered.

"Whatever, you got the idea," Tatsuji waved his hand dismissively. "I'll be so strong, the spirits will weep at the thought of my name..."

"Hey, Pedro, I'm done!" Kagami ran up to them, with a bag across her shoulder, rubbing at her eyes still with a smile. "Dad said he'll handle the restaurant. Shall we go?"

"Go... where?" Tatsuji squinted his eyes.

"Oops," Kagami awkwardly smiled. "Didn't see you there, Tatsuji... Go... um... nowhere?"

"Are you two dating?!" Tatsuji held onto his helmet.

"We're not!" both Pedro and Kagami screamed in unison.

"Come on, Takuya, can you at least not lie to me?" Tetsuji turned to him. "You're my friend..."

"That's why I'm telling you, we're not dating!"

And even if they were, Pedro didn't see how it was Tatsuji's business.

"Then where are you going?" Tatsuji asked.

"Just to the..." Pedro scratched his head, trying to think. "Aunt Itsuki's art gallery! Yes, she needs help with paint supplies."

"I'm coming with you," Tatsuji said.

"No!" Pedro and Kagami both interjected.

"Then you are dating! Just admit it!"

Pedro was sorely tempted to stuff Tatsuji in a box and forget about him, but secrecy needed an excuse.

"Hey Tatsuji, doesn't that cloud look like swordsman Yagyu Jubei?" Pedro pointed above the boy's head.

"Where?!" Tatsuji looked up in confusion, straining his neck.

"I don't see it?"

"Look to the right, you can't miss it!" Pedro encouraged, grabbing Kagami's hand.

Tatsuji looked around, still searching as they ran off. By the time he realized no one was there, Pedro and Kagami were at the outskirts of town.

"Phew, phew..." Kagami stopped to catch her breath. "I haven't ran like this in a while..."

"Let's go before he catches up with us," Pedro went towards the forest.

The trees clumped together in ragged formation, creating a tangle of branches and leaves that would quickly confuse a traveler, even so close to the town if they weren't paying attention.

Pedro knew from experience how easy it was to get hurt.

"I know the place is behind the forest," Kagami followed him. "But how are we going to cross?"

Pedro held her hand tighter. "You'll see, just follow my lead and keep your head down from the branches."

He took her through a maze of pathways he remembered by heart. Forward, right, forward, left, right, and forward again. Ducking behind thorns, guiding by the memory of his footsteps as much as by sight alone, he kept his movements steady but slow enough for Kagami to keep apace.

As he went through, the pathway receded, eventually leading to a dead end.

"How are we going to get through that?" Kagami pointed at an untraversable mess of bushes and trees, covered in leaves.

"Over here," Pedro knelt down in front of a tree that had an "X" carved on its bark. The ground beneath it had a barely visible green cloth, covered with a thick layer of adhesive leaves.

He rolled the cloth away, revealing a wide underground passage, going down just below Pedro's height.

"That's the Sanctuary?" Kagami asked.

"Not yet," Pedro jumped into the tunnel. "We'll get there."

Nervously, Kagami jumped into the tunnel as well. Pedro was ready to catch her, but she landed fine on her own. It was only then she noticed a wooden ladder standing inside.

"Ow..." she straightened her back. "I didn't need to jump..."

Pedro used a stick lying in the passage to pull the cloth back over the hole. The passage was dark once more.

"I can't see..." Kagami said.

"Don't worry, it's just going straight now," Pedro retook Kagami's hand, guiding her through the tunnel. It took only a few minutes for them to reach the end, the tunnel sloping upwards again.

Pedro tried his best to contain his nerves. He couldn't even remember how many years it had been since they had a new member. Silently, he prayed for it all to work out.

Pedro used another stick to put the cloth covering that end. Another ladder was there to help Kagami climb up. Pedro himself jumped over the footholds.

A beach opened itself before them, the sands stretching in front of a clear lake surrounded by the forest mass. Pedro couldn't count how many times he'd been here, but the sight never grew tiring. From the gleaming golden sands, the sparkling of the water reflecting the sun, stones worn smooth by the sand jutting from the lake's edges, the feel of a quiet forest breeze.

But it wasn't just the surface beauty that made Pedro feel at peace. At the center of the beach, a wooden cross had been firmly placed atop a heap of sunflowers. The symbol of the Kirishitans, defiant and free.

"Ah, we made it," Pedro took in a breath of the fresh air, relaxing as his sandaled feet touched sand at last.

"It's beautiful," Kagami gasped, taking in the sudden expanse separate from the forest. Slowly, she made her way across the soft sand to the symbol of their cause.

"You said there were others, right? Is anyone else here..."

As if to answer her question, a sudden burst of laughter came from her right.

The serving girl flinched in surprise. The old Sarutobi Rai sat on a piece of cloth next to doctor Ayano Kata, both sharing a jug of sake.

"Can you believe these morons?" Kata said in an uncharacteristically jovial tone. "'Shoving things they stole around, thinking I'll just drop my kimono at the sight of them! Almost as bad as my patients when they hit on me!"

"I hear you, Martha," Rai laughed with her. "My customers are bad, but at least they're not... doing that."

"It's like they don't even care that I'm married!" Kata rolled her eyes. "Even if I wish I wasn't! Good thing the drunken hekoki can't get it up anymore. The thought of having kids with him makes me want to vomit all over his..."

Pedro tried not to laugh out loud. Doctor Kata sat like a sailor on a deck without a pretense of composure.

While Pedro was used to the sight, Kagami watched with a stunned expression.

"Maybe I should take one patient up," Kata gulped her drink. "Just to spite Sosuke."

"Bwa ha ha ha..." Rai near-choked on his sake. "Hey, why not? Live a little, make it two at once!"

"You know what?" Kata threw away her cup. "That's a great goddamn idea!"

"Doctor Kata!" Kagami's face was blood red with embarrassment. "Why are you like... like this?"

Everyone's attention turned to Kagami. Before Pedro could say anything to salvage the situation, Rai broke out into a huge grin.

"Pedro, you sly dog, you got a new one!"

"Eh? What's going on?" Kagami blushed, equal parts bewildered and embarrassed. "Takuya, who's... Peduro?"

In retrospect, Pedro conceded that maybe telling her next to nothing prior to the visit wasn't the best idea.

"That's me," Pedro pointed at himself. "I'm Pedro. We all get to choose another name here."

"Mine's Martha," Doctor Kata said.

"I... forgot mine, so just call me Rai," he grinned. "And that's Hisako over there."

Pedro pointed to a young girl in a ragged gray robe, sleeping on a pile of leaves under a tree. Her angular face was half-covered by her unkempt long hair, ash-white and wispy as dandelions.

"Don't mind her, she always sleeps through the day," Rai shrugged.

"Welcome to the Kirishitan beach. We call it the Sanctuary," Kata raised her cup. "Want a drink?"

"No th-thank you, Father would not approve..." Kagami murmured, shaking her head in confusion. It was a lot to take in, Pedro could only imagine.

"Your father..." Kata winked. "Ain't here."

She stood between Pedro and Kata's outstretched hand, still trying to process the situation. After a pause, she laughed self-consciously and stretched out a hand to accept the cup.

Kagami awkwardly handled the cup, twisting and turning it in her hands. Sighing to herself, she closed her eyes and sipped at the drink.

"Aaaah..." Kagami hastily gave the cup back. "It tastes like... fire in my mouth... owwww..."

"Hah," Rai laughed. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it and breathe fire like a dragon!"

While Kagami still tried to cough the burning feeling out, Pedro stood silently, hopes of Kata not opening the initiation with sake being crushed.

"This, seems a little small, I must admit..." Kagami said, still coughing the taste from her mouth.

"There are more of us, but we can't risk us all being here at once," Pedro answered. "We would surely be noticed."

"So... how much do you already know?" Doctor Kata asked calmly, downing Kagami's cup in one gulp.

"Takuya said that here we can all be free," Kagami sat down with the rest of them. "Free to be ourselves with people who would never judge or condemn us."

"It's true," Kata said. "Here, only God is with us. He lets us be who we are. Be free. Of the laws, of the town, and of the Shogun. You want to be free of something too, don't you?"

Kagami took a long and hard breath. Pedro had a good idea what that was.

"Father..." she lowered her head. "He wants to marry me off to Takuya. He never will listen, no matter how many times even Takuya says no, because he hates what I really want to do."

"And what do you want to do?" Rai asked.

"I want to travel, learn to make my own songs, and play my shamisen to people," she said, simply and without preamble.

Kagami untied her bag, loosening the knots and opening it for the others to see. Inside sat a wooden shamisen, polished from use.

"But Father does not approve," Kagami cradled the instrument in her hands, gently stroking its surface with a thumb. "It reminds him of Mother too much."

"You can play your music here for us," Doctor Kata smiled. "I'm sure we'll like it."

"Thank you, Doctor Ka... I mean, Maruta... Maruha... Martha," Kagami shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to mess up the names!"

"It's ok," Pedro laid back in the sand. "It took us a while to pronounce them too."

"How do you choose them anyway?" Kagami asked. "These aren't Japanese names."

"I got this list right here," Rai pulled out a long scroll from is own bag, carefully unrolling its thick paper. "Got it from a Portuguese priest-in-hiding in exchange for some of Pedro's... paintings."

Pedro's eyes drilled into Rai, silently insisting he not disclose the particular series of accidents it took to make those... paintings.

"Can I see it?" Kagami took the list. It had names written in letters she could not understand, next to a kanji translation. Her eyes fell on a random name.

"Erizabesu?" she hesitantly said. "I'm pronouncing it wrong, aren't I?"

"Yup!" Rai nodded, before Doctor Kata nudged him with her elbow. "I mean, you did better than I did the first time and..."

"It's Elizabeth," Pedro said before Rai dug himself deeper. "Do you like it?"

Kagami took one more glance on the list.

"I think... I do."

"Then..." Pedro said. "Do you want to play a song for us, Elizabeth?"

"Yes," she said softly. "I would like that very much."

Everyone gathered round, for the melody of Kagami's shamisen. Pedro too wanted to immerse himself in the sound. Everyone, including Kagami, closed their eyes.

Except Pedro, who preferred to gaze up at the sky. It reminded him of...

He squinted, shading his eyes with a finger.

He saw it, a black spot, flying in the wind, it seemed far too rectangular in shape to be a bird.

Whatever it was, it warranted a closer look. His innate suspicion got the better of him, Kagami would have to wait. Pedro saw little reason to worry the others as he crept back into the forest.

Once away from everyone, he dropped his green yukata and put on the mask. He couldn't afford to let anyone know what he was.

Only Mei understood what needed to be done. The price of their freedom demanded no less. The others would never excuse his bloody hands.

"Lord, please just be a bird..." he climbed the tallest tree he could find close by. Squinting into the sky, he could see a silhouette of a person clad in black kuroko garb, their hands and feet attached to the edges of the kite.

A cold shiver ran through Pedro.

Once in a while it happened. Vagrants traveling through the forest too far, bandits looking for loot, and samurai testing their swords, all would get too close to the hideout.

But for the first time an outsider had actually seen it.

They had been found out. That person must had seen the cross. Just one report to the Shogun and...

"No!" Pedro reached for his pouch. "I can't let you leave!"

Pedro aimed and, let loose a spray of webs into the air, glancing over the kite as they went.

He swore under his breath. Like an idiot, he'd now alerted the target to his presence.

The rider swerved away from his initial direction, taking advantage of the current away towards Himawari.

"Damn it!" There was no time to waste.

Pedro leapt from his position, hands and feet instinctively finding handholds as he made his way from tree to tree, climbing ever higher through the forest's upper layer, birds and animals running from the unfamiliar-smelling creature.

The kite was still ahead, but he was slowly gaining ground. "If only I were closer..."

The kite began to descend slightly, still not enough for Pedro to make the jump.

Pedro took out his bolas, weighing his options. No way it would reach if thrown, if paper webs did not. But what if...

"I never gave Rai his pearl back..."

His eyes fell on a couple of tall, yet thin trees next to each other. Then on his bolas again.

He had an idea.

Tying his bolas between the trees, he attached the pearl to the center like a crude slingshot.

He took a step back from the branch, leaned against the tree's trunk, and pulled. The recoil flung him back, smacking his head into the rough bark.

He saw the pearl as it flew from his bola.

"Come on, do the trick!" he jumped ahead, waiting for the pivotal moment.

There came a muffled thud, then a brief shout. He saw the silhouette of the man as the kite began to plummet; crouching, bracing themselves for the crash.

And crash it did, falling from above the tallest tree, down as it went until it fell through a mesh of branches, crackling and crumbling as it hit the ground below.

"Yes!" he gave chase.

There. He found the kite, torn and splintered, its kuroko-clad pilot still breathing as he struggled to free himself from his restraints.

Pedro approached cautiously.

"Who..." it was an old man's voice, not what he'd expected. "Who are you..."

He saw the Sanctuary.

He had to be dealt with.

"Get... back..." the man turned to his side, holding on to his katana, waiting for Pedro to get closer.

A katana.

Not only the Sanctuary was discovered, but it had to be a samurai?

Pedro braced himself, cleansing his mind from all thoughts but one.

That man had to die.

"Draw your sword, samurai," Pedro stood over him.

He could see the despair in his eyes, the one thing Pedro could see through the mask. Numerous times the man tried to get up, but his knees failed him.

"I said, draw your sword," Pedro didn't move an inch.

"Graaaaah!" the man pulled out the blade in one swift motion.

Pedro let his muscles relax, leaning back to avoid the slash. With the moment it afforded him, Pedro swung his leg around, stomping on the man's wrist before he could regain his momentum.

"Aaaaargh!" he screamed. His wrist cracked.

"Your toy won't save you..." Pedro knelt down, grabbing the old man's neck. "From the wrath of God."

One snap of the neck.

And it was over.

Like a puppet cut from its strings, the man fell down.

The Sanctuary remained hidden.

Pedro felt no triumph. A threat had been dealt with, no more, no less.

Looking through the pilot's body, he found a scroll on the man's belt, and opened it.

The first thing he noticed was the seal of the Shogun. A genuine, unmistakable crest belonging to the Tokugawa clan.

His pulse pounded in his ears. Pedro nervously read through the scroll.

* * *

_The holders of this scroll, known as the Rokuten unit, are hereby granted full authority in the mission of rooting out Kirishitans in the Himawari area._

_They are granted full legal immunity in the methods of investigation._

_All suspected Kirishitan activity must be reported to any holders of this scroll._

_Failure to cooperate will be recognized as treason against the Shogun._

* * *

"Dear God..." Pedro breathed, a desperate cry amid the stillness of trees.

 


	2. First Blood

_"And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them." – Luke 6:31_

**#2:First Blood**

Many travelers had passed through the quiet roads to Himawari. Some were mere merchants, or peasants, seeking to make a living. Others were ronin, driftless as the spring breeze. A quiet town called for quiet visitors.

Loud as a roaring thunder, the animal pulled its cargo as its heavy paws struck the rocky soil. It was a massive black bear, clad in a horned samurai helmet, fitted for its broad head.

"Be quiet, Akuma."

The rider's cold voice was all the bear needed to calm down.

The man wore armor of blackened metal. The plating was of foreign design, unfamiliar to the Japanese blacksmith, plates layered like the scales of a dragon.

On the cuirass, the scales formed the visage of a dragon torso, complete with shoulders extending their spikes. Hanging out of place from the black metal was an orange fur collar around the man's neck, dully gleaming like a spark amid the coals.

What wasn't covered by his armored cuirass, gloves, and boots was the dark brown yukata. But from the stiff movement of the rider's limbs and the clanking of metal, one could tell there was yet more steel underneath, clothing him like an extension of his skin.

On his head rested a three-horned helmet. If it wasn't for the eyes visible through the helmet, he'd almost seem inhuman.

The rider kept the reins in one hand, as calm as still water when the man in a red yukata ran towards the carriage.

"You!" the man shouted, barely keeping his breath. "You have to help me!"

With one glance at the man's belt, the rider noticed two empty sheaths hanging limply at his sides. Useless.

"In that town over there," the man frantically pointed ahead. "A fool in a gaudy dress took my swords! He was a peasant, probably even a burakumin!"

The rider stopped the carriage. Akuma the bear quietly growled at the swordless man, who only then noticed him.

"Is that... a bear?" he stared at the animal as the rider stepped down from the carriage. It was only then apparent that the rider was more than a head taller than the man desperate for his attention.

"Your swords..." the man pointed at the rider's belt. "I've never seen anything like them."

Indeed, his belt hosted a pair of swords unlike other ronin, a katana and a wakizashi, the black handles of which were decorated with patterns of golden flowers.

"With swords like that, everyone will fear me!" the man handed him a sack of coins. "Come on, I'll buy them off you, just name the price."

"Buy them off me?" the rider's voice almost made the man drop his coins. "You think someone like you can lay your hand on them?"

The rider looked down on him. He could see the man for what he was, a shivering, shambling wretch of a man who hadn't the skill to keep his own steel. And yet had the arrogance to beg for his own.

Empty as the sheaths he carried.

A mockery of samurai and men.

An affront to the ground he walked on.

Such a samurai would never have made it in Matsuhira-sama's time.

The rider unsheathed his katana in a slow draw. The man could see the grace of its blade - sharp and clean without a shred of human error, on gleaming metal never before seen in all of Japan.

"This blade..." the man stared at it as if he witnessed a god. "No one gonna say no to me when I have this! Not the stingy merchants, not the know-it-all daimyos, and definitely not stuck-up women!"

"You said someone took your swords away," the rider asked.

"Some masked nobody used a cheap trick on me, threw my swords in the river, right when I was about to show that woman her place!" the man scoffed. "But with these swords, he ain't gonna get the better of me! Please, sir, I'll pay you anything!"

There could be only one course of action with such a worm.

"Then pay with your life," the rider raised his blade. The man flinched, eyes widening in fear, but it was short-lived. One horizontal slice to the neck, and the coward's head was obscured under the rush of blood.

Limp and headless, the body fell on the side of the road next to the head. Akuma the bear excitedly turned to the corpse, the saliva from his mouth betraying his intentions.

"No, Akuma, you can't eat him," the rider wiped the blood off his katana with a small white cloth.

The bear whined in protest.

"He's filthy," the rider sheathed his blade. "When we're at Himawari, we will feed you proper food."

"You didn't have to kill him, Korin-san," an old man opened the carriage door from the inside. "He certainly was no threat to anyone."

It was Ryujiama Reijiro. With his bald head and plain blue robes, the old man wouldn't look out of place among the smiling visitors of the temples.

Yet something always felt off in his smile for Korin. Far too cheery. Much too happy. As if he had spent his life preoccupied only with sake and shogi in that old monastery of his.

"You killed him way too fast," a coarse female voice was heard from the carriage. "It's not any fun if you can't see the fear in their eyes."

The woman exited the carriage next. While Reijiro could be thought of as any monk traveling the mountain roads, Jo's attire was far from inclusive. From her flame-patterned orange kimono, the paper lanterns that hung from her belt, to the bandages that wrapped around her skin like coiled snakes.

Only Masako's unblinking eyes could be seen through the layers of bandages.

"Your sentimentality disgusts me," he said dryly.

"Hey, let me at least set fire to his corpse!" Jo's laugh was shrill as she ran to the body, lantern in hand.

"A dead man doesn't suffer," Reijiro sighed as he looked down at the body. "And it is a waste of oil."

"Both of you, go back inside," Korin climbed back onto his seat. "Let your bickering be Matsumoto's problem. Our path has not ended yet."

Masako complied as she reluctantly put away her materials. Reijiro, before doing the same, turned to Korin.

"Korin, has Taka-san returned from his scouting mission yet?"

"I sent him in the morning," Korin took the reins. "Most likely he will meet us at the town entrance."

The carriage moved on through the road, until arriving at a checkpoint just outside the town's gates. The two guards manning it stepped forth, despite being startled by the sight of a bear.

"Halt!" one guard raised his hand. "To pass this checkpoint, we demand proof you aren't a Kirishitan!"

Korin had passed six such checkpoints on the road already. Their demands had all been similar, their tests more so.

"Very well," Korrin stepped down from the carriage.

"You must step on this," the other guard brought a plate. "If you hesitate, we will consider it admission of your guilt."

The plate depicted a man, thin and sickly, covered by naught but a cloth, nailed to a cross. His face looked away, as if accepting what fate had in store for him.

Kiristo. The symbol and god of their faith, celebrated by them for his act of sacrifice.

A Kirishitan would never step on it, they thought. They could not offend one who had given his life for their sake.

Korin had seen enough of such ignorance.

"Do you expect to catch them like this?" Korin raised his foot.

In one vicious stomp, the plate had been smashed, scattering wood and poor-quality steel and wood alike. The guards, taken aback, almost fell to the ground.

"The Kiristo is a god of mercy," Korin said. "If it means saving the lives of his followers, he will gladly forgive something like this."

"You will never find a real Kirishitan with such worthless methods," Korin took the reins, walking beside his carriage.

"Wait!" one shaking guard ran to him. "I... I know you! You're Kariudo, aren't you?"

"The Kariudo?!" the other guard followed. "Leader of the Rokuten? One who defeated a hundred men at Shimabara? This is such an honor!"

"Kariudo-sama!" they both bowed to him. "Please forgive us!"

Worms. Their praise, devoid of meaning. They could bow to anyone who had shown the power to kill.

Such power was a duty, a responsibility, and nothing more. Duty to your master. To family. To all that followed.

For those who truly walked the path of the blade, no reason was there to praise it.

"Get out of my way," Korin walked past them. The guards watched him go in silence.

The first thing Korin noticed were the decorations. Paper lanterns, pieces of cloth, elaborate flower arrangements... was it all for him? Seemed far too much effort for just one inspector.

Whatever locals came their way were put off by the sight of a bear. After a while, Akuma got tired of people giving him the shifty eye and started growling back at them, until eventually one called the guards.

"Halt!" for guards, accompanied by their shambling captain, blocked the way. "Who goes there?"

"Inspector Seiji Korin of the Rokuten unit," he had showed them a scroll.

"This is a true Tokugawa seal..." one guard mumbled.

"So this is... hicc... the inspector?" the captain was barely able to walk up to the accused. "Well... welu... hi. Captain Sosuke at your... ser... serve... help."

Korin could not believe his nose, the wreak of sake was overpowering. There was no doubt.

"Are you... drunk on duty?" Korin asked.

"I'm not... on duty," Sosuke turned to face him, feet unsteady by the motion.

Unacceptable. Disgraceful. Morbid. What sort of daimyo would allow his captain of the guard to turn so drunk? A geisha with a needle could rob him blind and kill him.

"Shall we... get you... to the castle?" the captain attempted a bow and fell flat on his face.

"We shall... take a look around first," only barely restraining himself from cutting the worthless captain down, Korin managed a calm reply.

Masako and Reijiro exited the carriage, leaving the locals to be intimidated by the bear.

"Matsumoto isn't coming?" Korin asked the two.

"She has declined," Reijiro said. "Nothing to see she already hasn't seen, she said."

"How typical of her," Korin went forward. "Let's go. We'll find whomever the Shogun was talking about, if we're lucky."

The sight of Korin's armor and his strange companions did not make it any easier for the townsfolk, than the bear. Everywhere they went, the townspeople shied from them as if they'd caught plague.

Korin could only describe the town's defenses as laughable. Barely any guards patrolled the streets, no doubt half of them were too busy making sure their captain didn't have alcohol in his lungs.

And the other half most likely protected the castle.

Upon Aoki Taka's return, Korin had decided to have him train those useless men.

He smiled on the inside, picturing the maggots running from a determined old man with a kite on a training course. He wondered if it were possible to survive a jump from that height.

Korin looked back at Himawari's castle. Possible, indeed. Other than that... nothing special. His master built a much more impressive one.

"Ooh," Masako twitched, also looking at the castle. "I'd love to set this one on fire. Think about it, it's a huge pillar, right? So if you burn the lower areas, the poor little people at the top will be trapped!"

Korin listened to Masako's fantasies as she muttered to herself.

"Faced with no choice, to either plummet to their deaths off the roof, or get burned from below... ah, that brings back memories!"

Reijiro sighed. Korin considered doing the same. Such cruelty had no meaning. What was the point imagining the deaths of those who weren't their enemies? Whom they didn't even know? Who had not displayed any damning shame?

Benevolence begets obedience and vice versa. An absolute principle of conduct between the powerful and the powerless.

Those who broke it, on both ends, would cease to be worthy in the eyes of the world.

A fate Korin had witnessed first hand.

Regardless, Korin was confident he would find use for Masako's passions when he did find the Kirishitan rebels.

Could such a small timid town contain those willing to betray the Shogun on the grounds of faith?

Of course.

Where else could they be?

For the god of the meek and the savior of the downtrodden, there could be no better sanctuary.

Exactly how Taka taught him to sniff them out.

They continued their travels until they were stopped by a child in armor many sizes too large for him.

"You're a real samurai!" the boy's eyes were glowing with excitement. "And you look so strong!"

"What an energetic young man," Reijiro laughed.

"Hey, can you show me your signature move?" the kid circled around Korin.

"What is your name, young man?" Reijiro asked.

"Fujio Tatsuji!" the kid enthusiastically answered.

"Fujio?" he had Korin's attention. "Is your father, by any chance, Fujio Gengoro?"

"You know my father?" the kid's eyes shined even brighter. "You must be amazing!"

"So old Gengoro had a kid after all..." Korin smirked from inside the helmet.

Perhaps this visit was worth the trouble, Kirishitans or no.

"Take me to your father," Korin said. "And maybe I'll show you my technique."

Tatsuji obliged, taking them to the Fujio restaurant. The sight of it baffled Korin. A restaurant? Why not something dignified like a dojo?

How much the times had changed.

"Dad, dad, there's an awesome samurai here!" Tatsuji stormed in soon before Korin and the others went inside.

"What do you mean by..." Gengoro was serving dumplings. "Oh..."

For Gengoro, he took one look at Korin's skull helmet to stop what he was doing.

For Korin, seeing Gengoro was a different kind of shock. A withered, pudgy little man couldn't possibly be the same man who stood with him blade by blade.

Speaking of blade, where was his? It wasn't anywhere on his person, not even a sheath. His son didn't have it either. What was happening?

"Tatsuji, go home," Gengoro firmly said. "Now."

"But dad!" Tatsuji pouted. "The cool samurai promised to show me his moves!"

"I said now! Tatsuji," Gengoro looked him in the eyes.

"Fine!" he ran out in frustration.

Gengoro then shifted his gaze on Korin, looking at him with the intensity of a mortal foe.

All Korin wanted to ask was "why".

"Shall you not let your guests sample your cuisine?" Reijiro's friendly voice cut into the tension.

"Ah, of course," he gave a nod, before going into the kitchen.

The three unusual guests attracted immediate attention from the other visitors. Everyone stopped whatever they were doing to gawk at Korin and his company.

"I've never seen this kind of armor on a samurai before..." whispered a guest.

"Why is a monk traveling with them?" another whispered.

"Whoa, look at the girl," the third said slightly louder. "Bandages everywhere... what could have happened to her?"

Masako, seeing how too much attention was directed at her, turned to the guests with a fierce scowl.

"What're you looking at?" Masako growled at them. "Want me to show you?"

She carefully pulled back a bandage from the side of her face, letting the air caress her skin.

The reaction was immediate. One woman gasped. Another shut her eyes in horror. A man gagged, before he ran out, sweating with the color drained from his face.

"No? Good."

The food arrived sooner than expected, as Gengoro brought a stick of dumplings for all of them.

"How is that samurai going to eat now?" a guest whispered. "He gotta take off that freaky helmet of his."

Korin picked up the dumplings. As he opened his mouth, the jaws of the helmet moved with it, letting him eat his food.

Even those guests who tried to stay quiet, could only gasp at the sight of the moving skull helm.

Only Gengoro calmly waited for Korin to finish his meal.

"Meet me outside, in the back," Gengoro said before leaving the restaurant.

Korin followed him out, to the small river shore behind of the restaurant. He had so many questions, he barely knew when to start. Maybe with...

"Why are you here, Korin?" Gengoro said first. "Has a war started out there? You want to take me back?"

"No, old friend," Korin stepped to the side. "I'm here on the Shogun's business."

"The... Shogun?" Gengoro raised an eyebrow. "The Shogun employing you? What sort of madness is this?"

"The Kirishitan sort," Korin showed him the scroll.

"Kirishitans?" Gengoro read through the scroll. "In Himawari? But that..."

"Now it's my turn to ask questions, Gengoro," Korin pointed at him. "Where are your swords?"

"My... swords?" Gengoro asked. "Why does it matter to you?"

He had to ask?

"You are a samurai, Gengoro," Korin gripped the handle of his own katana. "You should wear the blades."

"It has been many years, Korin," Gengoro sat down on the grass. "Many, many years since you have known me."

Korin's patience wore thin as a geisha's cloth.

"Then tell me why," the tone of Korin's voice rose up. "What could possibly have changed you? You should be out there by the Great Shogun's side, serving him as his loyal blade, not losing your dignity like this!"

"Loyal blade, huh..." Gengoro absent-mindedly looked into the sky. "Remember when we were 'loyal blades' of Matsuhira Katsuie?"

"All too well," Korin said. "But Matsuhira-sama already paid for his..."

"You still say 'sama' for him after all these years?" Gengoro shook his head. "After all the lives taken for naught but his amusement?"

Thoughts swarmed into Korin's mind, like a chaotic sea of words and feelings. Korin blocked them all, for only one answer mattered.

"I owe my life to him for all eternity," Korin said. "And so I shall never speak ill of him."

"Because of the armor, huh..." Gengoro glanced at it. "Does it still hold so firm, even now? Dulling even the sharpest blade?"

"If you still had your swords, you would have found out for yourself," Korin started walking away.

"I wanted a family."

"What?" Korin turned back.

"The answer to your question," Gengoro said. "I hung up my swords because if I didn't, I'd be rotting in some ditch by now. Instead, I was blessed with a son and a daughter, who will carry on my name."

"Your name could have been carried by your deeds," Korin said. "It could have been immortal."

"I don't expect you to ever understand," Gengoro got up. "I must go now. Say hello to Taka for me, will you?"

Korin left, feeling nothing but disappointment. Were all samurai fated to either fall in battle, or become fat and weak like Gengoro?

Masako and Reijiro met him outside, talking with Captain Sosuke.

"I have to... hicc... take you to the dam... dami... there!" the good Captain pointed to the castle. "He is expe... expecti... wants you."

If they had to tolerate someone like him all the way to Himawari castle, Korin would have to compete with Masako on who lost their patience first.

However much the Captain deserved it, Korin wasn't interested in stabbing him or setting him on fire quite yet... not before he got an explanation from the daimyo at least.

"Go first and tell the daimyo we will be there momentarily," Korin walked to him. "Please."

"As you wi... wish," the Captain shambled away. "Hey, I got that word cor... corre... damn it."

Once Captain Sosuke was well out of sight, Korin gave a sign to go.

As they walked towards the castle, they could hear the whispers and talk of the people around them.

"Did you hear?" a woman said. "They say Kumo-no-Otoko was at it again."

Korin slowed down to pay attention.

"Yes," a man replied. "I think it was by the river, he assaulted a samurai there."

It sounded familiar to Korin.

"Oh yes, threw his swords right into the river," another woman said. "If you ask me, he is nothing but trouble. Our town guards should have..."

"Our town guards are completely useless burakumin," the man interrupted her. "How are they going to catch him if they don't know his face? A mask is enough to embarrass all of them."

Mask. Threw swords in the river. It must have been the man that humiliated fool had spoken of.

"Sure, but they could have found him by the giant spider mark on his chest," the first woman said. "It's very distinct and kind of resembles a cross..."

"So they find him, then what?" one more man said. "I've seen him climb walls, throw webbing like it's a ball, and he's strong enough to beat several guards at once! They stand no chance."

"I still think he's a Kirishitan," the man said to the gasps of others, who replied with something, but by then Korin was too far away to listen.

Kumo-no-Otoko. Man of Spiders. Korin found it an unusual name for a Kirishitan rebel.

"This Kumo-no-Otoko sounds fun," Masako said. "You think he's the reason we got called here?"

"Most likely," Korin said. "Although if he is just one man, this mission should be over quickly."

It wasn't too hard for Korin to believe a single masked man could evade those incompetent guards, even if it sounded like he had done so for some time.

Could be a Kirishitan. Or just a man with a vendetta against the samurai.

If he were the town's well-known pest, it would be logical to question the daimyo about him first.

Korin arrived to the steps of the castle. He expected a grand meeting with the daimyo in his magnificent palanquin, carried by at least ten servants.

Instead he was received by a smiling old man with a terrible moustache, accompanied only by one maid.

"So... where's the daimyo?" Masako asked.

"I am the daimyo, Jinno Jinsei, at your service," the old man performed a short bow. "Welcome, honored guest...s? Wait what?"

"The letter only said one guest!" he grabbed his head. "How am I going to accommodate three valued guests of the Shogun?! The guards even said you have a bear!"

"I do have a bear..." Korin said, baffled by the scene before him.

"This is a disaster! We..." Jinsei moved slightly from a nudge by his maid. "We are... thrilled to have you with us, of course. Let us have a chat and we can consider the accommodations later."

Korin could not understand what was happening. One nudge from his maid and his attitude changed completely? Was the town just full of utter fools?

No matter. The sooner Korin got his answers, the sooner he could leave.

"Go and get Matsumoto," Korin said to the others before going in.

The daimyo and the maid left their shoes at the door. When Korin did not, the daimyo quizzically turned to him.

"Aren't you going to..."

"I cannot." Korin, however did leave his katana at the sword rack.

"Edo people are strange..." Jinsei shook his head.

Korin was not lying, but he did not have the patience to explain it to someone who obviously would not understand.

Before long, both Korin and Jinsei shared a table in a dimly lit room, with the steam and aroma of tea. The maid stood in the back, behind Korin.

Jinsei made no attempt to hide the terror on his face when Korin's skull helmet opened its mouth to drink.

"So... um... great visitor of the Shogun," Jinsei nervously said. "Before we get down to business, I'd like to present you one of our treasured arts. Jun, go get it!"

The maid disappeared for a minute, then emerged with a painting. On it, a great fire was engulfing the forest in its merciless grasp, save for just one tree. A boy was climbing it with another boy on his back, faces lit by the strike of lightning. It was titled "One Last Hope."

"It is well-made," Korin could not lie. Even if he was no art critic, he had seldom seen art of such quality even at Edo. Perhaps it was even a match for Matsuhira-sama's collection back at Shimabara.

"Who is the artist?" Korin had to ask.

"A young man, lazy one if I had to add," Jinsei took a sip of his tea. "Yamashiro Takuya."

Korin thought he saw the maid's lips curve for a moment. Not that it mattered.

"I'd like to meet this Takuya later. Perhaps as a commission," Korin said on a whim. "But now we must get down to business."

"Quite..." Jinsei pretended to ignore the sweat on his forehead when Korin handed him the Rokuten scroll.

"Kirishitans..." Jinsei's jaw fell. "In my town?! Preposterous! Blasphemous! Impossible!"

"Are you questioning the Shogun's judgment?" Korin stared into his eyes. "If the Shogun deemed it necessary to send me, then it is not impossible."

"Of course... of course not," Jinsei quieted down.

For a moment, Korin noticed that Jinsei's eyes drifted away from him, as if looking somewhere behind Korin. But why would he...

"What made the Shogun believe we have Kirishitans in our town?" suddenly, Jinsei's voice turned calm, methodical, and reserved. Not the ramblings of a buffoon he was just five seconds ago, but a sharp, precise voice of a statesman.

Although Korin had no idea what caused such a sudden shift in personality, finally finding a person in town that wasn't entirely hopeless was relief enough.

"There have been countless reports of attacks on samurai visitors, accumulated over the years," Korin took a sip of his tea. "One of such samurai victims I've had the... misfortune to meet on the way here."

"Be that as it may, what does the Shogun believe connect these attacks to the Kirishitans?" he said in the same unwavering voice. "For all we know it could be the work of random ronin and other such... elements."

Korin understood the daimyo's motive. Trying to discredit the suspicion to make him go away as soon as possible. The leading question was to why. If he weren't complicit, he had no reason to resist investigation.

No, that wasn't entirely true either.

He could also be protecting his own reputation from the Shogun. If it became known that Himawari was a trouble town, he could lose it all... with his family being in Edo trapped like hostages by the great Shogun like the other daimyos...

Best to keep him close, if only for the time being.

"That is what we are here to determine," Korin took a long sip. "If it really turns out to be the work of wayward bandits, then I shall leave it in your capable hands."

With a trap at the end.

"We can start with one potential Kirishitan..." Korin continued. "He has been causing quite a bit of trouble... I refer to one known as Kumo-no-Otoko."

Korin could read the uncertainty in Jinsei's face. Once again the man's eyes darted behind him.

Korin followed his gaze, if nothing else but to see what was important enough to stray his attention from a guest of his standing. Such conduct would not have been tolerated in Edo.

He saw nothing, but the maid standing there with a stoic expression.

He had no way of explaining any of it.

"Kumo-no-Otoko is... is..." the daimyo's nervous voice resurfaced.

The nervousness on the daimyo's face had disappeared.

"Is nothing more than a myth," his voice turned firm again. "Just a legend to entertain the visitors, an imaginary Kirishitan, a phantom to frighten the children. Nothing more."

Doubt crept into Korin's mind. Could it be true? It was improbable how a single masked man could evade an entire force of guards, even as incompetent as the ones in Himawari.

Was he truly a legend then, no more than a children's scare?

Then what did that foolish "samurai" see?

"Jinsei-sama, Jinsei-sama!" a guard burst into the room, panic clear in his eyes. He hadn't even the courtesy to remove his sandals.

"What?!" Jinsei shouted back at him. "I am with an honored guest, you better have a good reason for interrupting me!"

"There has been a murder!"

The guard's words echoed like thunder. Jinsei and the maid exchanged glances, tension in their faces quickly starting to match the guard's.

Korin remained calm. Before anyone could shout anything, he raised his arm.

"Take us to the scene at once," he told the guard, his tone demanded nothing less.

They were taken to the outskirts of the forest. Surrounded by a squad of guards, there laid a body.

"It was found by a child playing in the forest, sir," the guard accompanying Jinsei said. "We dragged the body outside, but we don't recognize the man. Next to him we found what I think is a broken kite..."

A kite?

It couldn't be...

Korin's blood boiled, his reason faded, he rushed forward and pushed the guards in front of the body.

What he saw could not be denied.

The black outfit, the familiar old face, even if twisted in death...

The body of Aoki Taka.

"Who did this?!" Korin roared at the guards. "Tell me now so I may cut him down!"

"We don't know!" one of the shaking guards said. "All we found on him is spider webbing around his neck!"

Spider-webbing... the people said something about that. It meant only one thing.

"A myth, was he?!" Korin shouted at Jinsei. "That myth just killed one of my men!"

"I... I'm sure there is a rational explanation for all of this!" the daimyo waved his hands in fear.

"Get out of my sight, all of you!" Korin roared.

He was swiftly left alone with his fallen friend.

"Taka..." he knelt down to close the dead man's eyes. "I am sorry."

It was inevitable. An old soldier like Taka could have chosen no other chapter to close out his life. But to die like this, on a scouting mission in a spirit-forsaken town, done away by a masked buffoon, a so-called myth?

An insult to Taka's dignity. An offense to the Rokuten, to Korin himself. Taka's teachings, his wisdom deserved so much more.

"Where's his sword..." Korin didn't find anything on Taka's belt.

Kumo-no-Otoko took it. And the scroll.

He knew what they were.

He declared war on them. He was a Kirishitan, he must be.

To think a Kirishitan would not only fight back, but be the one to strike first.

He needed to be found, dragged out, brought before the sun broken and weeping as the family and friends of his family were made to watch.

The wound he inflicted on the Rokuten would be returned tenfold.

A plan formed itself in Korin's mind. He went to the nearest guard.

"Get the daimyo, tell him to gather every single person living here to the Town Square," Korin said. "I shall make a formal announcement."

It didn't take long to gather the crowd. When Korin arrived to the square, it was already packed with curious yet terrified eyes of the town denizens. Everyone, including a daimyo and his maid, could barely keep themselves together.

Korin assumed the center.

"People of Himawari," he faced the crowd. "I am Seiji Korin, known by many as Kariudo. I am here to sniff out any enemies of the Shogun and the country, rebels and Kirishitans alike."

The word "Kirishitan" sparked a commotion, that quickly died down as Korin continued speaking, unconcerned.

"My soldiers and I will do everything in my power to find them and bring them before you, on their knees."

He pointed forward. "Unless..."

Korin drew his blade. The crowd gasped at the sight, backing off.

"Unless one known as Kumo-no-Otoko will face me," he pointed the sword upwards. "In three days, on this very square, he will meet the wrath of my blade."

"Should he not do so..." Korin returned the blade to his sheath. "Every Kirishitan, everyone even suspected of being one, shall be burned one by one!"

"Bu... burned?" someone in the crowd whispered. "Isn't it too much... even for Kirishitans..."

"If you can hear me, Kumo-no-Otoko, know this!" Korin swept his arm across his blade, drawing blood. "Only by facing me in battle shall you save your precious followers of Kirisito!"

"As for all of you," he pointed at the crowd. "Spread the word, make it known at every corner, so that he would know my steel awaits his flesh. And should he win..."

Korin smirked.

"I shall leave the town of Himawari and its people in peace. Now go!"

The crowd dispersed as quickly as it gathered, whispering and arguing among themselves.

He would come.

Korin was sure of it, because he knew. Beneath that mask was a bloodthirsty soul, not unlike Korin himself. He left Taka without a sword to die, which meant he hated the samurai, hated them enough to kill in such a fashion. Leaving a warrior to die without honor deserved no less.

A chance to publicly defeat a samurai and "save" his town? The masked one would not fail to show himself, Kirishitan or not.

Taka wouldn't go there on his own, where his kite was useless. He was struck over the forest, from the air.

He saw something Kumo-no-Otoko did not want him to see. Most likely, his hideout.

"Shall we go, oh honorable guest?" Jinsei's meek voice interrupted his trail of thought.

"Yes," Korin turned towards the castle. "Take me to my quarters."

Korin's quarters were near the top of the castle, a room brimming with fine wooden walls, quality shelves to store his belongings, and an entire rack for his armor, decorated with seashells and the head of a dragon carved from agate. Even in Edo his quarters were not as grand.

Of course, his thoughts were never quelled with luxury so easily. He wished Himawari was nothing more, but a routine mission, to be left and forgotten by the end.

But on that day, the town took firm roots in his mind and soul.

The spirit of his fallen comrade and mentor calling out for blood.

Korin sat down before the armor rack. His hands reached for the helmet.

"Release me," he whispered. "We are in no danger. Release me."

He could hear the distant voices, always chanting words he could not understand. Silent, until he had wronged them. The armor latching on, never letting go.

"I said..." he pulled the helmet off himself as hard as he could. "Release me at once!"

The voices's whisper became a shriek. Korin felt his armor tightening, as if trying to pierce through his skin and push him down. Resisting him at every opportunity, doing everything in its power to push him in.

"We must sleep, or else we shall be weak," he said while still trying to pull the helmet. "Let me go!"

He felt the metal latching on to his face, threatening to tear his skin apart.

"Just until the morning... set me free," he pleaded, arms straining to release a burden heavy as sin. "I shall return for you."

Eventually, it gave to his fingers, reluctantly sliding off his face as the whispers faded. As the helmet struck the floor, his armor cracked into pieces, scattering to dust and leaving Korin alone in his brown hakama.

Without armor, one could see his black hair in a topknot, his short yet messy beard, the muscles on his body and the many, many scars upon his skin, as well on his weary face.

His pain disappeared, but the voices did not. From the helmet, they still called to him. Called for vengeance, for the blood of the masked one.

"In just three days," he picked up the helmet. "In just three days I will be ready to vanquish him."

He placed the helmet on top of the armor rack, facing him directly in the eyes.

"Three days will give him time to think," he said. "Time to consider his options. Perhaps he will prepare for a faithful fight. Or... he might try to attack me first, when he thinks I am 'unprotected'. Or flee the town in fear."

He allowed himself a smile of anticipation.

"We shall see exactly what kind of man he is."

Korin went to sleep, nothing to trouble his thoughts but the whisper of voices and the memory of shame.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading chapter 2! Why not leave a review and let us know what you thought of it? As you can see, this chapter follows our villain. This is our structure - POVs will alternate between him and our Spidey. Make sure to ask any questions or suggestions, dear readers!

**Author's Note:**

> So, congratulations on reaching the end of chapter 1. Tell me how you like it. This is essentially Spider-Man in Edo Japan, an idea I had suggested by my friend. Sort of a proof of concept, going from me always wanting to write a story in period Japan. I'd like to hear all the questions and suggestions you guys, gals, and etc got. Chapter 2 will introduce our antagonists and move the story into the structure I want it to be.
> 
>  
> 
> Questions for ye who read this:
> 
> 1\. Which characters would you like to see more of? I went kind of heavy on the supporting cast, because I want to have a much more grounded story than my Amazing Spider-Gwen over there.
> 
> 2\. Romance? I have several ideas planned out for it, but I'd like to hear your input on whom you want it to proceed with. Pedro, Kagami, Jun, and Hisako are roughly the same 18-ish age, the rest of the cast are older adults with exception of Tatsuji, who is a younger teenager.
> 
> 3\. Are the historical details easy to follow? I know I'm writing a period piece, but I don't want it to be needlessly confusing either.
> 
> With that in mind, take care and I'm looking forward to seeing you again.


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